Every Day is a New Beginning: A Series of Destiel Meet Cutes
by R.L. Woodson
Summary: A series of different Destiel meet cutes (and meet uglies) to make you smile at your screen. Sweet and fluffy, rated for swearing and innuendo (for now).
1. Defend My Honor

**Title:** Every Day is a New Beginning: A Series of Destiel Meet Cutes

 **Rated:** T

 **Summary:** A series of different Destiel meet cutes (and meet uglies) to make you smile at your screen. Sweet and fluffy, rated for swearing and innuendo (for now).

 **A/N:** Hello my fam! Here are a few cute little things while I get my life on track. This will be marked as complete throughout the posting, because I haven't decided how many of these I'm going to write. If you have a suggestion or request for a meet cute, let me know and I'll take it under consideration.

 **Defend My Honor**

Castiel sat as the bar, checking his watch for the eight hundredth time. Sure, the waitress was hot, but Gabriel had been gone for almost thirty minutes.

He didn't like bars very much. He preferred coffee shops, but that wasn't his brother's style, as Gabriel informed him. They'd made a deal— bar tonight, new coffee shop down the street next Thursday for their weekly brotherly bonding night.

"Hey there, Handsome," a man's voice floated from the left of him.

Castiel grit his teeth. He was not in the mood to be hit on. Time to politely ask the guy to leave and inevitably endure uncomfortable flirting until Gabe got back.

The man was fairly muscular, with sandy blonde hair and an aggressive smirk. He looked a few years older than Castiel. His brain told him no, and his heart echoed that sentiment.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the guy beat him to it. "Did it hurt?" he looked concerned now.

Castiel tilted his head. "Excuse me?"

The man grinned. "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

Castiel leveled a completely emotionless look at him. "Excruciatingly," he said, monotone. Maybe he could weird this guy out. It worked before.

Apparently, not with this one.

He chuckled. "You're funny." He scooted closer, and Castiel shifted awkwardly. He should just get up and leave, sure it was impolite, but he didn't _have_ to be polite all the time. He could just—

"Hey, sweetheart." A smooth voice said in his ear and a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. Castiel's eyes widened. Not another one.

He looked up, ready to tell the other guy to fuck off because he was _touching him_ and that was just not cool, but a very green pair of eyes met his and the words died on his tongue as he leaned in.

Castiel almost met him halfway to kiss him. His brain was obviously short circuiting and it and his heart were both screaming, _Fucking climb him like a sequoia right now!_ Instead, like a gentleman, he pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Castiel stared as he pulled away and smiled. Golden hair, green eyes, scruff, plump lips… Jesus Christ. He was a god.

"This guy givin' you problems?" he asked, puffing up his chest like he was ready to defend Castiel's honor.

Castiel didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

The new man wrapped an arm tighter around him and oh god he smelled amazing. "He's taken, so you can fuck off now," he said to stranger number one. His voice was growley and low. To Castiel's mortification, he felt something stir low in his stomach.

The other guy raised his hands in surrender and left. When he was out of view, the beautiful man pressed against him let him go and slid onto the stool next to him. "Sorry about that," he said, aggressive demeanor now shy. Castiel still couldn't speak.

"I just saw that you looked real uncomfortable and I've seen that guy around. Luke never takes no for an answer." He shrugged. "You okay?"

"Yes, um, thank you…" pink flooded his face. He was still stunned by the past sixty seconds, where this aggressive macho guy had just turned into a shy, quiet man defending Castiel against creepy strangers.

"Dean," he grinned at Castiel, holding out a hand.

"Castiel," he choked out, gripping Dean's hand. It was a strange mixture of calloused and soft, something that Castiel wanted to ask him about. He wanted to ask him about a lot of things, and have that arm around him again, and maybe kiss him to see how full his lips could get, then kiss him some more.

He realized he was staring and dropped Dean's hand. "Thank you for protecting my virtue," Castiel murmured, then mentally slapped himself. Damn his vocabulary. He didn't want to scare this one off.

But Dean just laughed. "No problem. Just because you're gorgeous doesn't give everyone the right to hit on you."

Oh. Castiel's eyes widened. This guy… this _god_ thought he was attractive? Dean was literally perfect, how could Castiel even compare?

"That totally sounded like I was hitting on you, didn't it?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't mind," slipped out of Castiel's mouth before he could stop it.

Dean's smile was beautiful. "I'm glad." They stared at each other for a few more seconds. Castiel frequently stared at things, it was just something he did, but most people were weirded out by it. Dean just stared right back.

"Since you don't mind," Dean said after a minute, "would you want to-"

"Hey Cassie," Gabriel said, linking his arm with Castiel's. He rolled his eyes. Gabriel _would_ choose that minute to come up. "This guy bothering you?"

Dean's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Is he…?"

Castiel glanced at Gabriel, who looked like _he_ was now trying to protect Castiel's honor, and laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair.

"Dean, this is my brother, Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Dean, who saved me from an asshat earlier." Dean let out a huge breath and shook Gabriel's hand.

Gabriel glanced at Dean, then Castiel, then back to Dean. "Well alright, then," he leaned against the bar.

Dean chuckled. "I was sayin', would you want to get coffee with me sometime? You don't really seem like you like it here and I work down at The Roast, so twenty percent discount." He gave Castiel another one of those little, honest smiles, and Castiel knew he'd probably jump into a volcano if Dean asked him to.

"Yes," Castiel said perhaps a little too loud. He coughed. "I mean yes, I'd love to."

Dean's responding grin was blinding. "Awesome. Here's my number," he glanced around and swiped a pen from behind the bar. "Just call me when you're free, alright?"

Castiel barely heard him. His hand was cradled in Dean's, and his thumb held his fingers out as the pen left ink in the form of ten digits. "I'm usually free," Castiel mumbled.

"Me too," Dean grinned again, and Castiel felt heat rising to his cheeks. He was slow to let go of Castiel's hand. "I'll see you soon, hopefully."

And then Dean was gone, walking towards another man with a shit-eating grin on his face. The guy said something to Dean, and he gave him a light punch to the shoulder, pushing him to get out of the bar. He turned, throwing one last smile at Castiel before they left the bar.

"I may have just gotten laid," Gabriel said, startling Castiel from his happy cloud, "but you just scored. Nice, little bro."

Castiel grumbled something unintelligible, but smiled at his shoes. Some day he'd thank Gabriel for bringing him to that atrocious bar.


	2. Ring Pop

**Ring Pop**

"That's our best seller, sir. Three point six carats."

The man, Samandriel, looked nervous. Castiel was fairly used to this. Garrison Jewelers was incredibly high end and incredibly expensive, and their best selling ring was over two hundred thousand dollars.

"Should I even ask how much this is?" Samandriel sighed. Castiel's face betrayed his thoughts, and Samandriel sighed again. "What do you have under six thousand?"

Castiel ushered him to their cheapest set of diamonds. "One point two carats, slightly flawed, nearly colorless, princess cut," he explained. "This one is $5,400."

"Do you think she'll like it?" he asked. "I mean, it's kind of small, and not really fancy."

Castiel cocked his head to the side. "Does she love you?"

Samandriel's eyes wandered, and a little smile spread on his face. "Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. And I love her."

Castiel slid the show box across the counter. "Then I believe a ring pop would suffice. If she loves you, it doesn't matter. Though, this is a nice step up from candy."

Samandriel smiled, and Castiel rang him up. He loved working at a jewelry shop, especially in the engagement ring department. Castiel would never admit it, but he loved love. More than anything, he wanted to be in love. He wanted a ring pop on his finger. But the last time he tried, it hadn't worked out so well.

Samandriel left the store. Castiel would have to live vicariously through his customers, pretending that every one of them had a beautiful love story and lived happily ever after.

"Cassie, I just scored big time," Gabriel popped in out of nowhere, and Castiel jumped.

"Jesus Gabriel," he slowed his racing heartbeat. "What did you do this time?"

"That guy," he pointed to the man in a suit walking out the door. "He just dropped _two million_ on diamonds for his wife. Do you know what kind of commission that is? I'm rich!"

"How the hell do you do that?" Castiel grumbled. Commission may be a promising five percent, but Gabriel managed to blow every other salesperson out of the water. Including Castiel.

"Hey, I put this charm to good use," Gabriel leaned on the counter. "It's a gift and a curse. I'll let you have the next one. And I'm buying you dinner tonight!"

Castiel sighed when the shorter man skipped off. Yeah, he made a decent living, but no amount of money could pay for happiness. And Castiel wasn't rich _or_ happy.

The soft thump of the door turned his head. Gabriel gave him a thumbs up, and Castiel rolled his eyes. "Good afternoon! Are you looking for anything in—" Castiel stopped, breath catching in his throat.

A modern Michaelangelo's David stood in front of him, hands in his pockets and green eyes sweeping over the store. He wasn't their typical customer, but the bowlegs and Zeppelin t-shirt didn't stop Castiel's heart from racing a thousand miles a minute.

 _Stop it_ , he chided himself. He knew better than to get attached to their customers. This man was probably here to buy a ring for his girlfriend, or maybe a necklace for his wife.

"In particular," Castiel remembered to finish.

The man's gaze fell on Castiel, and he gave him a wide-eyed sort of smile. "Uh, hi." As he approached, Castiel took the time to identify all the shades of green in his eyes until he was right at the counter.

A crash sounded behind him, most likely Gabriel communicating that he needed to hurry up and say words because there's a customer here and he's _hot_.

"I'm Dean," the man said, blinking quickly.

He held out a hand, and Castiel took it. "Castiel," he replied, trying to keep his voice even. _Customer, he's a customer, ask him about his engagement_. "Are you looking for an engagement ring today?"

The little half-smile dropped off Dean's face. "Actually…" he trailed off, swallowing thickly. At a loss for words, he pulled a little velvet box out of his pocket and set it gently on the table. "I'd, uh, like to return this."

The thinly-veiled sadness on his face broke Castiel's heart. They stood for a moment before he remembered he had to do his job here.

"Do you have your receipt?"

Dean held out the bits of crumpled paper from the transaction, and Castiel read them with a frown. He'd purchased the ring over 60 days ago with no insurance. The ring, upon further inspection, was very expensive. Maybe he couldn't afford the insurance.

"It's past the return timeframe, I'm afraid," Castiel began, "but we can buy it back for 75% of what you paid for it."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's a lot to lose." Castiel couldn't argue.

"May I ask what happened?" Castiel asked after a moment.

"Yeah, uh," Dean mumbled, staring at his hands like he wanted something to fiddle with. "Her name was Lisa. High school sweethearts, y'know? We were together for a long time, but it turns out I—" he closed his mouth, then opened it again, words rushing out. "I slept with one of my groomsmen because apparently I'm gay as fuck, so."

Castiel's mouth dropped open. This adonis was self-proclaimed gay as fuck? As in, Castiel would be in his potential partners category?

He mentally smacked himself. His customer was sharing the story of the end of his relationship, Castiel should _not_ be lining up to claim him. "I'm so sorry," he said instead. And it was true. Castiel was sorry that Dean was hurting. He knew what it felt like to come out at a bad time.

The corner of Dean's mouth pulled up. "Don't be sorry. I needed to be who I am." He shrugged. "It was just a pretty bad way to go about it."

Castiel chuckled, and Dean's grin widened. They stared at each other for a second, Castiel lost in that green. Dean deserved more. "If I may say," Castiel began, and stopped. "Sorry, I shouldn't—"

"No, go ahead," Dean leaned on the counter, waiting.

The Novak tugged on the collar of his shirt. "I was just thinking… it seems like you want a relationship, if you were carrying the ring around for so long. Why not save it? I have no doubt you'll find love again."

"You think?" Dean's hopeful grin sent a little shiver up Castiel's spine.

"Definitely."

"I'll take your advice, then," Dean snapped the box closed and pocketed it. They stood for a moment, just looking at each other. The conversation was over, Dean would turn and walk out the door and out of Castiel's life any second now. Should he give Dean his number? Would that be inappropriate? Technically he wasn't a customer per se. Maybe—

"Cassie, my bro!" Gabriel slapped him on the back, and Castiel could barely hold back a glare. "You helping this nice customer?"

Dean looked amused as Castiel fought for composure. "Yes, thank you Gabriel. Your assistance isn't needed here. We've just finished."

"Great." Gabriel popped a lollipop in his mouth. "Then you're good to go on break." He gave Castiel a look. "A long break."

"You're off then?" Castiel turned back to Dean, who looked a little apprehensive. A small whoosh told him Gabriel had fled, and he sent a mental _thank you_ to him.

"It appears that I am."

"Would you, ah, want to get a coffee with me? Just for a minute? You can tell me your tragic backstory too." Castiel must have had a stupid grin on his face, because Dean's smile grew.

"Yes," Castiel said quickly, already ripping off his name tag. "Yes, that would be lovely."

They walked out the doors side by side, and Castiel couldn't help but imagine the ring in Dean's pocket on his finger. He didn't even really care, he'd take a damn ring pop from that man any day.


	3. Five God Damn Months

**Five God Damn Months**

It was the same everyday. Dean sat in the same seat, wearing the same jeans and plaid shirt, going to his same job in the city. And every day, exactly three stops after Dean's, _he_ would get on the bus.

The first time, Dean nearly spit his coffee out. He'd looked up from the newspaper to see the most beautiful creature on the planet sink into a chair across the aisle from him. He sat facing forward while Dean faced the back. They'd locked eyes for a split second and Dean had a mild heart attack. After spilling the lukewarm coffee all over himself, the man gave him a shy smile and turned to face the window.

That was almost five months ago. Every weekday they sat diagonal from each other, making covert eye contact but never speaking.

It was driving Dean fucking insane.

Normally, he'd make a move no problem, but those eyes… They were blue and captivating and _terrifying_ , like the guy could see his soul with a look. Dean's mouth would go dry and hands clam up and he'd stay rooted in his seat like a child.

That didn't mean he didn't look, though.

It wasn't creepy, Dean justified, because the man was on public transport. He could look all he wanted, it was a free country. And damn did he look.

The man was as unearthly as an angel. It was so cute how he'd press his rosy lips together when he couldn't figure out a crossword answer, or how he burrowed into his trench coat when he was cold.

He and the man always got off at different stops so he'd never actually been standing at the same time, but Dean estimated that the man was about six feet tall, only an inch or so shorter than him. He was probably a runner or a cyclist or something, because he was lean but obviously strong.

Around month three, the man's briefcase fell and Dean briefly saw the initials C.N. carved on the bronze nameplate. For a week he obsessed over what his name could be. Charles Nolan? Chris Nash? Carter Nickelson?

Every day Dean sat by this man, looking but not looking, wanting so much to go over there but scared out of his mind. It was a four foot Pacific between them.

Which brought Dean to today, month four, day twenty-two. He clambered onto the bus and saw that it was pretty full today. Another few steps and he noticed that the blue-eyed man's seat was taken. Panic washed over him. What would he do? Where would he sit?

As he stopped at his seat, another wave of panic washed over him. His seat was empty and the seat facing his was empty. Those were the only two left. He was going to have to sit in front of him.

Dean spent the next three stops rehearsing made up conversations in his head, though the guy probably wouldn't even talk to him. Dean Winchester wasn't enough for that beautiful man.

 _"_ _Hey, how's it going?" Dean would say._

 _"_ _None of your business," the mad would say._

Fuck, no. Too boring.

 _"_ _Robert Frost is a good choice," Dean would say. The man would look at him funny. "I mean you brought that collection with you for like three weeks last month," Dean would explain._

 _"_ _Stalker," the man would frown and get up to leave._

Yeah, too much. But it was too late to rehearse anymore, it was _his_ stop.

The blue-eyed man stepped onto the bus, trenchcoat billowing in the wind. He made his way towards their usual spots and scanned the crowded seats. Dean could see the exact moment when the man realized his seat was taken. Dean's breath hitched as the blue eyes crashed into his, then darted to the empty seat in front of him.

For a second, Dean thought the man might walk straight down the bus and sit with the driver, but thankfully he dropped into the seat across from Dean.

Wow, he was so much more beautiful than Dean could see from across the aisle. He tried to look at him without really looking at him, again, and occasionally met the man's eyes. This was torture—he was too aware of his body and he was sweating and the seconds passed like minutes.

He was going to do it. He was going to say something. Dean opened his mouth, but the man turned to look out the window, and Dean lost his nerve.

Disappointment washed through him, even though he hadn't even said a damn word. Jesus Tapdancing Christ. What was wrong with him?

He stared at his cuticles for a moment. He needed to do it. _Do it now._

Dean looked up, directly into the man's blue eyes. They were wide, and his mouth was open, as if he were about to say something. It snapped shut, and they gave each other an awkward smile.

"Oh my god, just kiss already!" a small blonde woman next to them shouted. "It's been like five god damn months!"

"Joanna Beth! You mind your business," the older woman across from her said. She turned towards the shocked man and Dean. "Though she is right, we're all waiting for it."

Dean looked at the blue-eyed man, who was as red as he felt. "Uh, I'm Dean," he said, holding out a clammy hand.

"Castiel," the rough voice said. He took his hand and smiled. Dean felt both intense relief and a swarm of butterflies. "I am not going to kiss you right now, but since apparently it's been long enough, would you want to go out with me sometime?"

Dean grinned like an idiot. "Hell yeah."

The surrounded area erupted in applause. Castiel covered his eyes in embarrassment, but Dean couldn't help as smile at the little blonde woman, his savior.

"Invite me to the wedding, kay?" she grinned.

The train calmed down, and Dean grabbed a nearby napkin. "Here's my number." Warmth spread through his chest. He didn't feel like vomiting. It was a miracle.

Castiel chuckled. "Five god damn months."

Dean grinned. "About time."

 **A/N:** Review to your heart's content!


	4. Pointers

**A/N:** Prompt: Sure, [character] has a potty mouth, but he's never heard cursing like _that_ before.

 **Pointers**

Dean had just fallen asleep when the loud blaring jarred him awake.

"What the fuck?" his roommate Benny rubbed his eyes. "Is the building on fire?"

"Some asshole probably pulled the alarm," Dean rolled out of bed and pulled on a parka and sweatpants. "Get your ass up, the RAs will kill us if we're not out in two."

Dean and Benny shuffled out of the residence hall into the cold Pennsylvania air. Thank god Dean left his rubber boots by the door or he'd have walked out into the snow in socks.

"This is probably the first time we're seeing everyone," Benny drawled. It was true—due to the lack of decent RAs, there had been no welcome meetings or building-wide events or even name signs on the doors. Dean knew the people in his surrounding rooms and the few on the third floor that played their music loud enough to annoy even him, but that was it.

Everyone was clustered too close to the building, but there was no smoke. Sometimes idiots pulled the fire alarm or left easy mac in the microwave for twelve minutes. It happened. Dean didn't have anything to do the next day, he was fine standing out here for a while.

"Mother god damn fucker," he heard someone exclaim behind him. "What douche canoe pulled the fucking fire alarm? I swear to fucking god I will murder the shit."

Dean's eyebrows shot into his hairline. He had a potty mouth too, but damn. Turning, he understood why the guy was so angry.

The guy behind him was clad only in a towel, still dripping wet from a shower. Dean could see the water slowly freezing around his flip flops. His brows were drawn in a deep scowl, and it was kind of adorable.

"Why didn't you put on clothes?" Benny called. He wasn't exactly skilled at feeling the room.

The guy turned electric blue eyes on them both. "I live next to the RA and she fucking dragged me out." He shot a glare at Anna, who looked unaffected. Dean grinned and took a step towards him.

"Bitch," the guy said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "I will fight you, don't test me."

"I'm sure you will," Dean said, shucking off his parka. "I thought you might want to borrow this."

Castiel looked at the jacket suspiciously, then at Dean. "You'll be cold."

"I run hot." Dean grinned and held it out.

After a second, Castiel took the parka and shrugged it on. "Oh thank fuck," he sighed. It was still warm from Dean's body heat. He looked ridiculous in a big parka and a towel, but Dean stood with him.

"You make a habit of showering at two in the morning?"

Castiel sighed, calming significantly. "I've been in the library for nearly ten hours now. After my four upper level classes of the day. So I needed to wash the angst off me before sleeping."

Dean couldn't help a laugh. "I guess that's why I never see you around. What's your name?"

"Castiel."

Dean's mouth dropped open. "Castiel Novak? The freshman with the triple major?"

Castiel glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye. "Math, poly-sci, and Latin."

"Shit, man," Dean shook his head. "Professor Crowley uses your papers as examples in Intro to Ancient Politics. You're the reason I'm passing that class."

Castiel smiled at his shoes. "Glad to be of assistance."

"I expected you to look more," Dean waved his hand vaguely, "nerdy."

"I am nerdy," Castiel deadpanned.

"Yeah, but…" Castiel raised his eyebrow and Dean chuckled, "nerds aren't usually this hot."

Castiel scoffed, but Dean could see the corners of his mouth quirk up. They stood together for a minute, Dean beginning to feel the chill in the air through his thin t-shirt. After a second, Dean said, "I'm taking Latin I next semester. Do you maybe want to give me some pointers sometime? Over coffee or something?"

Castiel's eyebrows rose again. "Pointers?"

It was then that the crowd began shuffling back into the residence hall. Benny had graciously disappeared into the swarm of tired students, no doubt waiting to tease Dean once they got back to their room.

Castiel stepped up his pace. He was still in a towel after all. Dean followed in the least creepy way possible. Castiel said he was next to Anna's room, which meant Dean had to pass it to get to his room anyway.

They approached Castiel's door, and the blue-eyes boy turned. "Do you want your jacket back?"

"Anxious to get undressed?" Dean grinned.

Castiel rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Not before you buy me coffee." He handed Dean his parka, and in the light Dean could see how toned Castiel was. "Pick me up here at eight tomorrow."

Dean groaned. "That's so early."

Castiel grinned. "Do you not want _pointers_ anymore?"

Dean definitely heard the innuendo in his voice. "Bright and early, then," he said.

Castiel slipped into his room before Dean could say anything else. "Goodnight, Dean," He smiled in the shadow.

"Night, Cas."

The door clicked closed, and Dean wandered up the stairs, parka in hand. It smelled like Castiel's shampoo, mint and lavender.

"Hey brother," Benny grinned at Dean as he locked their door. "Whacha been up to?"

Dean gently hung the parka next to his bed and flopped back on it. "I think I have a date tomorrow."

"With the braniac, huh? Careful, he might eat you alive."

Dean burrowed into his blankets and sighed. "Hopefully."

 **A/N:** Reviews are Castiel giving Dean pointers!


	5. A Good Cause

**A/N:** Thank you to those who reviewed! Every one of them warms my heart.

Prompt: Charity date auction

 **A Good Cause**

Every guy here was dressed in his best suit and here Dean was in jeans. Yeah, they made his ass look good, but they couldn't measure up to—shit, was that guy wearing a tux?

 _This is for a good cause_ , Dean had to remind himself. He was doing the charity date auction to raise money for ovarian cancer research. And a little bit because Charlie bullied him into it. She had advised him to dress down a little, but still made him wear a button up and a vest. Apparently rolling the sleeves up completely changed the look.

Dean bounced on the balls of his feet backstage. They were calling the men up one by one, and they were raking in the dough. Balthazar went for over three hundred dollars, Gadreel for three fifty, and Michael almost broke four hundred. And the bidding started at fifty bucks.

"Next up we have Dean Winchester!" the MC Gabriel said with a flourish. With a deep breath, Dean stepped into the bright light of the stage with what he hoped was a casual smile on his face. "Dean is an Aquarius, likes fixing up cars, and can make a mean apple pie. Both men and women can bid on him. As always, the bidding starts at fifty bucks."

Immediately, Dean heard someone shout, "Two hundred!" He kept his casual smile in place, but the more numbers shouted out, the wider his eyes got.

"Three hundred!"

"Three fifty!"

"Four hundred!"

Gabriel was grinning like the cheshire cat. Somewhere around the six hundreds, a deep male voice said, "Fifteen hundred."

The crowd shut up, and Dean's jaw dropped open. _Fifteen_ _hundred dollars?_ That was too much. "Fifteen hundred going once!" Gabriel said. Dean didn't know what to do with himself. Did he keep smiling like an idiot? Did he bow? "Going twice!" Did paying this much mean the guy expected something out of him? Was this guy a perv? "Sold, to the charming man in the back."

In a bit of a daze, Dean shuffled behind the curtain so the next date could come out. Balthazar was saying something to him, but Dean ignored him. Who the hell bid over a thousand bucks for a date? It had to be a creep. Jesus, he was going to end up as a skin suit.

"Ladies and gentlemen, time to meet your dates!" Gabriel said all too quickly. Dean shuffled out with the herd of men and stuffed his hands in his pockets, waiting for the weirdo that bid on him.

Dean could hear the happy murmurs of the ladies around him, exchanging names and phone numbers with their chosen dates. He rocked back and forth on his heels, glancing around. No one came up to him.

After a few minutes, Dean spotted Gabriel in the throng. "Gabe," he called, weaving towards the short man. "Hey Gabe, no one is—oh, sorry." Gabriel was talking to someone else, someone tall, dark, and handsome. Wow. Was he one of the other dates? Did he go onstage when Dean was hyperventilating? It was kind of sad. Dean would have put good money on this blue-eyed angel.

"Not a problem," Gabriel clapped him on the back. "Introduce yourself, Dean-o."

Dean chuckled and stuck out his hand. "I'm Dean Winchester."

The man's smile widened. "I know."

The deep, gravelly voice was immediately recognizable. That was the voice of the man who bid on him, this was his date. Holy shit. "You're—"

"The man that bid on you, yes," he took Dean's hand. "I'm Castiel Novak."

Dean squinted at Gabe, who he knew to be a Novak. "Not a coincidence, is it?"

"Nope!" Gabriel popped the 'p' and grinned. "Meet my brother. Ciao!" and in true Gabriel fashion, he vanished.

"The little shit," Dean muttered, dropping Castiel's hand. Was he holding it too long?

"Agreed." They smiled at each other, and Dean suddenly felt shy and embarrassed. Damn, it was like he was twelve all over again.

"I originally wasn't going to come tonight," Castiel began, "but our mother died of ovarian cancer, and I've never been able to say no to Gabriel. It's for a good cause."

"Oh shit," Dean whispered. "I'm so sorry, Cas."

"It was a long time ago," he said, then paused. "Maybe you could comfort me by going on a date with me?"

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Dean grinned. "A fifteen hundred dollar date. How much comfort should I expect to give?" If Dean was being honest, he'd probably have no problem sleeping with this guy.

However, Castiel cast his eyes down, a little shy. "I don't expect anything from you. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I won't push you, I—"

Dean tilted Castiel's chin up, though they were both the same height. "I get it, now where do you want to go?"

Castiel smiled. "There's a carnival coming to town this weekend, and I'm quite talented at the ring toss."

"I happen to be great at darts," Dean dug his phone out of his pocket. "I'll win you a giant teddy bear in no time."

They exchanged phone numbers before Gabriel showed up and dragged Castiel to the car. He looked back and gave Dean that tiny secretive smile.

That evening, Dean lay in bed, smiling at his ceiling. He'd have to call Charlie later and thank her for making him do the auction. A ton of money was donated to ovarian cancer research, and Dean got a smoking hot date out of it. If that wasn't a good cause, he didn't know what was.

 **A/N:** Reviews are the giant teddy Dean wins Castiel!


	6. Both Professions

**A/N:** Prompt: "I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before, god, this is really going to bug me, no, don't go anywhere, I'll get this, oh damn, do we have mutual friends? OH SHIT YOU'RE ON [insert porn site here]."

Enjoy and review!

 **Both Professions**

Every so often, Castiel gets stopped. Sometimes on the street, sometimes in the grocery store. It doesn't happen a lot, and most people don't even realize who he is, just that he's a familiar face. That always made him chuckle.

Very few recognized him as James Angelo from HeavenlyPorn .com.

The website wasn't the most popular porn site out there, but Castiel was a big face in it. He was lithe and toned with an ass that wouldn't quit, and his big blue eyes made him look innocent. Even if he had a dick in his mouth.

At first, he'd started doing porn to pay for college, because scholarships only covered so much. Then he kept doing it to pay for grad school. Now, at age twenty-six with a masters in psychology, Castiel did it because he liked doing it. HeavenlyPorn was a safe, classy company that treated their actors well and offered benefits. Castiel loved sex and was paid to do it, he wasn't ashamed.

That didn't mean he ever talked about it outside HeavenlyPorn's doors. In the world offline, Castiel often wore sweater vests and glasses, spoke with a vast vocabulary, and had the awful tendency of slouching. He knew he wasn't sexy until he tried to be, and that was fine with him.

What bothered him was when the people who recognized him tried to ask him out. It seemed like they thought he'd put out for anyone just because he was a porn star. A few guys even offered to pay him, to which he responded that he was not a prostitute and they could kindly fuck off.

Honestly, he hadn't been on a date since his first year in grad school. He'd had his almost-boyfriend for two weeks when he told him what he did, and the asshole dumped him on the spot. Since then he'd had a few one-night-stands, but nothing more.

These thoughts ran through his head as he wandered through the local library. When he wasn't filming, he was researching the latest psychological theories and writing articles for smaller science journals. He was working on one right now about in-depth sex education vs. abstinence education and the effect it had on relationships in high school. The problem was that he didn't have one of Bandura's original texts about Social Learning Theory. It should be on this aisle—

Castiel rounded the corner and stopped. He could see that the man at the end of the bookcase was gorgeous. Like gorgeous enough to shame HeavenlyPorn's most beautiful faces. Castiel would totally overpay for a subscription to that man's videos. Damn.

The man's quizzical green eyes turned from the shelf to Castiel, and he whipped his head back towards the books, red surely spreading across his cheeks. He tried to search the shelves, but his eyes skipped right over every word. Damn his rusty social skills.

He heard soft footsteps and forced his heart rate back down. He would not look like an idiot if this adonis tried to talk to him. _Be cool._

"Hey," the man said, and _extra damn_ his voice was sexy. Castiel forced himself to turn his head. "Uh, sorry if this is weird, but did you by any chance go to Kansas University?"

Castiel cleared his throat. God, he recognized him. "No," he said, thankful that his regular speaking voice sounded nothing like his filming voice. "Chicago State."

The man narrowed his eyes, but it wasn't a malicious look. "Did you get your car fixed recently or somethin'?"

Castiel's brows furrowed and he shook his head.

The man chuckled, and it sent butterflies to Castiel's stomach. "I'm sorry I'm interrogating you, you just look really familiar."

"I guess I have one of those faces," Castiel mumbled, removing his glasses to clean them. It was a nervous habit. When he looked up, the man's jaw had dropped.

"Oh my god," he whispered, and Castiel braced himself. "You're James Angelo."

Castiel usually gave a flippant answer or stared uncomfortably, but he felt different this time. He settled his glasses back on his nose and clasped his hands together. "Um, yes."

Dean covered his mouth. "Oh my god," he repeated. "You're literally my biggest fantasy and you're so much hotter in person and you're so talented and—" His eyes widened and he lowered his voice. "Shit I sound like such a douche I'm so sorry, you probably hate this and I'm making you uncomfortable, I swear I don't even watch porn that much, it just happens sometimes and you're really the only thing that gets me going. Wait shit, I'm sorry." He wiped his hands down his face.

Castiel stood there, a little shocked and a little amused. He was rambling and honestly it was adorable. And flattering. Out of all the porn stars in the world, _he_ was this man's favorite?

"I'm an idiot," the man said. "I'm just gonna leave before I make it worse."

"Wait," Castiel's hand shot out automatically, grabbing the man's flannel sleeve. "It's okay." The man looked at him, surprised. "Thank you," Castiel settled on.

The man rubbed the back of his neck, then stuck out his hand. "I'm Dean. Winchester."

Castiel smiled and took Dean's hand, tilting his head up just a little to look into his eyes. "Castiel Novak."

Dean's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Are you serious?" he said a little too loudly. He must have noticed, and significantly lowered his volume. "The reason I'm in this library right now is to find your article about the halo effect and those women, the ones with the outfits and stuff." He laced his fingers through his hair and chuckled. "I can't believe it."

Castiel's mouthed dropped open then. "You read my work?"

"Yeah, man," Dean grinned. "I'm using that article as a case study for my thesis." He shook his head. "Anything else you'd like to share? Are you a gourmet chef too?"

Castiel felt the heat creep through his face. "No, just author and porn star." He glanced up at Dean. He was embarrassed, not for being who he was, but by Dean's attention.

"I hope this doesn't sound crazy," Dean's smile looked awed, "but fuck, you're amazing, Cas."

Castiel felt a smile spread across his face. No one had ever recognized him for both of his professions before. And Dean's praise… it was heady. "Do you want to see my original manuscript?" Castiel asked without thinking. "I mean—I don't know if they have the journal in this library, but I have my original copy."

Another surprised smile passed Dean's lips. "Yeah, that would be awesome."

"Maybe," Castiel bit his lip, suddenly nervous. "Maybe you could buy me coffee and I'll look over your thesis."

Dean grinned. "I will buy you all the coffee in the world. You free tomorrow morning?"

Castiel exchanged contact information with Dean, feeling lighter than air. This had never happened before. Dean, this beautiful, enthusiastic, intelligent man, was going to go on a coffee date with him, knowing exactly what both of his professions were.

Dean smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow," Castiel nodded.

"Cool," his voice was breathy. "Bye, Cas." He turned and almost skipped out the door.

Castiel leaned back on the bookshelf, stunned at the last five minutes of his life. Dean thought he was hot _and_ smart. He hadn't judged him for even a second. And tomorrow they were going on a coffee date. He was going to read Dean's thesis and show him his manuscripts.

And for the first time in a long time, he'd be perfectly fine with showing Dean a lot more.

 **A/N:** Reviews are Castiel talking academic in bed!


	7. Strumming

**A/N:** Okay so this one is a little different. It's barely even a meet cute, but it's almost more plot-y than the others. It has a 99% chance of developing into a real story, but I want to hear some feedback before I invest a bunch of time into it. So please review!

 **Strumming**

Dean sat on his balcony, curled in the tattered green armchair he'd picked up at a Goodwill for twenty bucks. It smelled a little bit like cigars and coffee, but he didn't mind.

His beer balanced on the edge of the railing, one of the last fancy IPAs Sam had given him for Christmas. He'd already pulled the tab off and was fiddling with it, a sure sign of his anxiety.

It was justified, he supposed. Seeing that velvet box in Benny's bag was not something he was prepared for. Sure, what was inside could be something other than a ring. Sure, the box could be something else entirely. But the feeling it brought with it…

Dean rubbed his eyes. He hadn't felt this anxious in a long time. That's why he was out here on the balcony and not at Benny's house, watching B-Horror movies and making out.

There was a small whoosh as the sliding door on the balcony next to his opened. Dean never spoke to his neighbors, he'd never even seen the one next to him, though he had heard meowing a few times. He imagined that one to be an old cat lady, perpetually dressed in a pink bathrobe and curlers.

He stayed silent. Cat Lady could have her cigarette and he could go back to his peace and quiet. She didn't even have to know he was there.

Dean could hear shuffling around the brick wall that separated them. There was a creak, and a thunk of something that sounded wooden. For a long moment, it was silent. Dean thought that Cat Lady might just doze off right there, then he heard the music.

It was soft strumming, not guitar. Something lighter… a ukulele. The chords were familiar, something Dean heard on the radio a lot, but slower. The upbeat vibe felt more like a lullaby. Then the singing started.

" _I was scared of dentists and the dark_ ," the voice sang. It was deep and a little scratchy and distinctly masculine. " _I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations, oh all my friends are turning green_."

It sounded kind of like a waterfall, like water striking rocks and rumbling on down a stream. It was soothing, and Dean's mouth was dry. He was transfixed. He had to hear more.

" _I love you when you're singing that song, and I've got a lump in my throat 'cause you're gonna sing the words wrong._ "

Dean's eyes closed. The man finished the song, and there was a long stretch of quiet. Dean heard more rustling, and for a second, he thought the voice would go back inside, but he started again. " _Sunday morning, rain is pouring…_ "

Again, it was slow and gentle. With anyone else, the roughness of his voice would disturb the smoothness of the song, but it worked perfectly with him.

Dean sat, and the voice sang. He sang for almost thirty minutes, Dean staying for song after song. It was so relaxing, and after a while, Dean realized he hadn't touched his beer at all.

The voice finished another piece, and there was another stretch of silence. He heard squeaking, probably the man getting up to leave, and Dean couldn't help himself.

"Would you play one more?"

There was a harsh thunk behind the wall, then silence. Dean thought the man must have vanished into thin air when he heard, "How long have you been there?" The voice was even deeper and more gravelly when he was speaking. There was a nervous note in it, and a little warmth spread through Dean's chest. He smiled to himself.

"A while," he settled on. Silence.

Again, he expected the sliding door to squeak and the man to disappear forever. He was almost ready to get up and go inside himself when he heard the starting notes to the next song.

" _She asked me son, when I grow old, will you buy me a house of gold…_ " Dean closed his eyes and let himself sink into the music. There was a chance he'd never hear it again.

" _I'll put you on the map, I'll cure you of disease,_ " He finished.

More silence stretched, but it was different. There was a sort of anticipation, now that the man knew he had an audience. Though he was a little embarrassed that he had admitted to staying for so long, Dean hadn't felt this peaceful in a long time. "Goodnight," he said quietly.

After a moment, the voice replied, "Goodnight." The door slid open, and he was gone.

Slowly, Dean rose and went back inside. He poured his beer out and went through the nighttime routine he always skipped. As he showered, he found himself humming that last song, "House of Gold." He almost never listened to the modern stuff, but this felt different. It felt better somehow.

He could imagine making Benny listen to ukulele covers. Benny would scrunch up his brow and look at Dean like he was crazy. He'd probably beg to turn it off. Usually the little scrunch in Benny's brow made Dean smile, but it didn't seem adorable in his head, not when the voice was so beautiful.

As he lay in bed, Dean tried to put a face to the voice. He didn't sound blonde, though there was no scientific evidence to back up vocal tone and hair color correlation. But Dean pictured him as a brunet. Would he have green eyes like him? Blue like Benny's? Dean had always been a sucker for blue eyes.

He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. Just because he was nervous about Benny did not mean he was allowed to fantasize about another guy. He was with Benny. He loved Benny. Regardless of whatever was in that box, he loved Benny.

Dean repeated that to himself as he closed his eyes, but as he sunk into sleep, all he could hear was soft strumming.

 **A/N:** Well? Story worthy or not? Tell me what you think!


	8. Fight Me?

**A/N:** Inspired by tumblr user osebs and her post about seducing her nurse with drool and her terrible lungs.

 **Fight Me?**

Gabriel was speaking to Dr. Edlund, but Castiel tuned them out. How was he supposed to know how he got bronchitis? All he knew was that his chest hurt and his cough hurt and everything hurt and that he wanted to die. Gone were the days in which breathing was peaceful. Adieu, sweet oxygen.

"He's shivering," Gabe commented to the doctor, "but doesn't he have a fever?"

"Getting chills during a low-grade fever is quite common," Dr. Edlund motioned to a nearby nurse.

"I'm right here," Castiel rasped. He was sassing everyone more than he usually did, which was probably because he was bed-ridden. He had shit to do, there wasn't time to be sick.

"We've given him medication, but we should keep him here overnight for observation. We will provide excellent care."

Castiel grimaced. "You can take your excellent care and shove it up your—" His chest seized up as he coughed, the air scraping against his dry throat. Why couldn't they just sedate him until the bronchitis was gone?

"Careful now," a new voice said. It was attached to—hello. This wasn't a real nurse, this was a stripper nurse. They guy was ripped and smiling and _hot_ , holy shit. He put a second blanket over Castiel in the inclined hospital bed, tucking it around his shoulders with a knowing little look on his face.

"Fight me," Castiel wheezed. Even as he said this, he burrowed into the new warm blanket.

"Maybe later." The nurse winked a beautiful green eye at him and left.

He just left, just like that. If Castiel was dying, the least the universe could do for him was to let the hot nurse stay with him. He grumbled, and the doctor left too. At least he felt too awful to pop a boner.

"Hey bro," Gabe sat on the edge of the hospital bed. "I'm gonna stay here tonight with you."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Go home, Gabe, I'll be fine."

"Cassie—"

"Seriously, I can't handle you mother henning me all night," Castiel griped. "Go stay at Kali's and bring me breakfast tomorrow morning."

Gabe squinted at him, but eventually conceded. "Fine. But you call me the second anything happens."

"I will."

"The second."

"Yes, Gabe."

"Anything—"

"Jesus, I'll be fine."

Gabe situated Castiel's little blue duffel in a nearby chair, even though Castiel knew he wouldn't need any of that stuff. No need for comfy sweats when he had this delightful hospital gown.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours, staying conscious just long enough for Gabe to say goodbye. Honestly, it was less like sleep and more like semi-consciousness. He was vaguely aware of people coming and going every so often, but he was too tired to open his eyes.

A voice outside his room woke him, and he immediately recognized it. Sexy nurse. The door opened as Castiel blinked against the lamplight. Sexy nurse shut the door quietly, and when they made eye contact, he grinned.

All the way across the room he held Castiel's gaze, and it wasn't until he was close that Castiel tried to speak again. "Fight—" A fit of coughs interrupted him, and he literally arched off the bed with the force of it. He settled back into the mattress after a moment, moaning in pain.

"I know you'd win," Sexy nurse grinned and fluffed his pillows.

Castiel caught a little flash of silver in the light of the lamp, a name tag. Sexy nurse was named Dean. "Dean," Castiel croaked.

Dean paused for a second, fixing his pretty green eyes on him. "That's me."

"What time is it?" The curtains were dark, but Castiel's body clock was all off.

"Well… Cas-ti-el," Dean glanced at his chart with a raised eyebrow, "it's a little past nine pm."

Castiel's brow furrowed. "But I was here at four, and you're still here."

"Working a double." Dean shrugged and felt Castiel's forehead with the back of his hand. "Your fever's going down. We can probably let you go tomorrow."

"You have to," Castiel sighed at the feel of Dean's surprisingly soft hand. "I have a paper to write."

Dean blinked in surprise. "You're going to write a paper with bronchitis? Sweetheart, on all these meds, you're gonna sound crazy."

Castiel tried to tamp down the little flutter in his stomach at the sound of Dean calling him 'sweetheart.' It was unsuccessful. "Sometimes court is crazy, so maybe it'll work in my favor."

"You a lawyer?" Dean sat on the edge of his bed, and Castiel couldn't help but smile. He sounded like a kid at story time, like he genuinely gave a fuck about what Castiel had to say.

"Law school," Castiel admitted. "That's the goal, though."

"My little brother wants to be a lawyer," Dean said. "He's real smart, like you."

Castiel tried to scoff, but it came out as more of a wheeze. "You don't know if I'm smart or not. If I spend all my time alone in a library or my bed and I still catch bronchitis, how smart can I be?"

Dean chuckled. "I guess you just have that look about you." He looked Castiel up and down and smiled. Regardless of Castiel's pale face, dark circles, and stringy hair, he smiled.

His lungs chose that time to betray him. He coughed, hard, his thoughts of Dean momentarily drowned out by pain. When he finally stopped, Dean was there with pain reliever and water.

"This should help with the pain." He put his hand on Castiel's back to help him sit up and swallow the pills. His hand was large and warm, and doped-up Castiel was getting some thoughts from his downstairs brain. Dean's green scrubs matched his beautiful eyes and his lips looked so soft and god dammit. It would be really difficult to hide a hard-on in a hospital gown.

Castiel chuckled to himself. "This isn't exactly what I think about when I suggest playing doctor."

He saw Dean's adam's apple bob up and down, and his heart cheered. Little victories.

"Not that I'm saying I wouldn't love that…" Dean glanced down, a faint pink spreading across his cheeks. How was he so adorable? "But you should probably catch some shut eye. Rest is good for healing."

Castiel pouted. He didn't want to sleep, that meant Dean would have to leave.

As if he could read his thoughts, Dean smiled. "I'll stay for a few more minutes. Just relax, Cas." He brushed a lock of dark hair off of Castiel's sweaty forehead, and Castiel's stomach flipped again.

He committed Dean's face to memory, just in case he didn't see it again. His eyes were an interesting shade of green—not quite emerald, not quite olive, but the perfect in between. His lips were just _sinful_ , sitting there all pink and plump and perfect. The little cleft in his chin was something Castiel wanted to trace his finger across, maybe run them over his scruff, maybe up to his high cheekbones.

Fuck, he'd break his own leg just to see that face again.

"Close your eyes," Dean murmured. Castiel felt something on his hand, Dean rubbing soothing circles, maybe, but his brain was fuzzy. Those meds must have been drowsy ones.

"I'll still fight you," Castiel mumbled, but obeyed and shut his eyes.

"Looking forward to it," Dean murmured back. It was the last thing Castiel heard before he slipped into sleep.

o o o

Light and sounds filtered into Castiel's consciousness slowly. There was Gabe and Kali, maybe Dr. Edlund. But no one else.

He blinked his eyes open and immediately looked at his hand, half expecting Dean to still be there. It wasn't though, because it was morning and Dean's shift was over. Castiel mentally smacked himself. He didn't even get the guy's last name.

"Hey, look who's awake!" Gabe came into his line of sight, and he couldn't stop his bitchface if he wanted to.

"Awake because you won't shut up," Castiel quipped. His voice was still hoarse, but he wasn't croaking like a frog anymore.

"If you're feeling better, we can release you after breakfast," Dr. Edlund smiled. Castiel once again tuned out the doctor and his brother while Kali set out the breakfast tacos. He rubbed his eyes. Coffee, he needed coffee.

"Kali, where's the coffee?" he mumbled.

She gave him a mischievous grin. "On your bedside table."

Castiel gave her an incredulous look, then found the little to-go cup from the hospital's cafe. It was still warm when Castiel picked it up, and his heart fluttered again. Written in sharpie were the words, "Fight me?" and a phone number. Dean.

Suddenly he was light as air. Dean gave him his number. His _phone number_. So Castiel could _contact him_ to _see him again_.

He could feel the stupid smile on his face, but he didn't wipe it off. "Is 'fight' a code word for something?" Kali arched an eyebrow and peeled the foil off her taco.

"I guess we'll find out," Castiel smiled and sipped his coffee.

 **A/N:** Reviews are Dean and Castiel playing doctor!


	9. Assholes Like Bartholomew

**A/N:** Prompt: "My friend dragged me to this party and I just saw my ex quick make out with me" from the tumblr of inthebackoftheimpala

 **Assholes like Bartholomew**

At first, Dean was worried that everyone would be wearing pastel shorts, a polo, and boat shoes. His ripped jeans and flannel would stick out like a sore thumb. In reality, it was mostly t-shirts, and lots of skin.

Sigma Pi Nu was not a place he frequented regularly. In fact, he didn't really hang out with Greeks in general. Then Ash had revealed that he'd just been initiated into Sigma Pi Nu, and Dean was shocked. Their facebook photos were always so stuffy and proper. How the hell did _Ash_ get in?

Then Ash showed him some of their pledge brothers, and all of Dean's preconceived notions fled. They had Kevin Tran, the seventeen-year-old genius, Adam Milligan, stoner extraordinaire, and Ed Zedmore, Magic the Gathering master, to name a few.

They had declared him a frat cousin and welcomed him with open arms.

It was noisier than Dean thought it would be, but he was perfectly content to stand relatively close to a group of Ash's friends and people watch. He wasn't buzzed per se—he'd only had one cup of the god awful jungle juice in his hand, which tasted like it was made of fruit punch and lighter fluid. He carried the second cup around, feeling the effects of the alcohol, incredibly unlike like the pleasant burn of a good whiskey.

After a little while, Dean unbuttoned a few buttons of his flannel. It was hot and honestly, there was a girl in a bikini somewhere, so he'd be fine. Several girls and a few guys threw a glance or two his way, and one girl talked to him.

"Haven't seen you here before," the brunette said.

"Haven't been here before," Dean replied. Or yelled. Like he said, it was noisy.

"Lisa," she introduced herself. She was pretty, _very_ pretty, with a little blouse that screamed 'lady in the streets, freak in the sheets.' But for some reason, Dean wasn't feeling it.

The last several people he'd slept with were women, and he was starting to crave something else. The last guy he'd slept with had been in his senior year of high school, and even though Balthazar was a little shit, he'd been an amazing fuck. Dean had never felt so good that night, with a strong, masculine body beneath his.

He shook his head. Little Dean needed to stay in his seat until he made it back to his apartment.

The conversation with Lisa fizzled out quickly after that, and Dean was back to people watching. His eyes glazed over most of the crowd, until they settled upon a guy hiding behind a pool table.

Damn. The guy had a shock of messy black hair and his jeans were the _perfect_ amount of tight. And that ass…

The guy peeked out from behind the table and seemed to panic, eyes sweeping the room until they found Dean's. Even from this distance, Dean could see their electric blue.

To Dean's surprise, the guy practically ran up to him, pushing people out of the way. Dean straightened up, curious but also _curious_. What was he running from, and what was he looking for?

"I need you to make out with me," the guy said, out of breath.

Dean blinked. He may have felt the everclear in his system, but he didn't expect _that_ kind of thing to happen. "Huh?" his brain tried to catch up.

"Seriously," the guy threw a glance back over his shoulder and looked back, panic in his eyes. "Please, kiss me now."

Dean should protest, he knew he should, but he was so _gorgeous_. His cheeks were flushed and he was licking his perfect lips and honestly, who was Dean to deny his request?

So he kissed him, and it was stronger than any liquor Dean had ever tasted.

The guy had no fear in him. He slotted his lips against Dean's and threw his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His bottom lip was so full and soft, Dean had to nip at it. He soothed the skin with a swipe of his tongue, and the guy shivered and opened so nicely for him.

Dean's brain fully caught up to what was happening. He slid one arm around the guy's waist and tangled his fingers in his dark, messy sex-hair. Dean pressed him closer and, to his surprised, the guy pulled at the front of his shirt and rolled them until Dean trapped his body against the wall.

That position opened up a whole new world of possibilities. They were in public and he didn't want to cross any boundaries, but he did break away and press a few open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

"Castiel!" a voice yelled from behind them. "You look at me when I'm talking to you!"

The guy, _Castiel_ , stood up straight. Another guy, this one clad in pastel shorts and a polo, stood angrily in front of them. Dean made to let go, but one of Castiel's hands held his arms firmly around his hip. "You can't order me around, Bartholomew, I'm not your property. I have a boyfriend, and it's not you."

Oh. _Oh_. Castiel was trying to get away from whoever this dickhead was and needed a cover up boyfriend. Not as romantic as a love-at-first-sight fantasy, but Dean could still play the part. Honestly, he felt protective towards the guy. Castiel was trembling ever so slightly, and it wasn't from the kiss.

"That's right, asshole," Dean called, pressing Castiel's back to his chest and wrapping an arm protectively across his stomach. "Cas is taken."

The asshole, Bartholomew, looked taken aback. "That's—that's not true," he sputtered. "He's just some rando you found!"

Dean didn't want to fight, but he wasn't sure what to say. He kissed Castiel's neck again, stalling. A quick glance down and Dean spotted ink on Castiel's back. It looked like feathers.

He took a shot in the dark. "I could count his tattoos, if you like," Dean growled. "Could a rando describe his wings?"

Bartholomew's mouth dropped open, and Dean could feel Castiel lean back against him. "So thanks for the chat, but you can fuck right off now," Castiel said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. Then he turned and grabbed Dean's head again, going in for another kiss.

Dean couldn't help but submit to him. That's what he was doing—submitting. Sure, he was the one practically holding Castiel off the ground, but Castiel was setting the (aggressive and passionate) pace, pulling Dean's head to angle _just right_.

He could get lost in Castiel, he was absolutely sure of it, but he needed a debrief. As gently as he could, he pulled Castiel away and glanced up. Bartholomew was gone.

"You okay?" Dean asked quietly, so quietly that he wasn't sure if Castiel heard him.

"Yeah," Castiel murmured, aggression completely gone. They were almost the same height when Castiel stood up straight. "Um, thank you."

Dean cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Happy to be of service. I'm Dean."

"Dean," Castiel repeated his name, and it was Dean's turn to shiver. "Can I be honest, Dean?"

The Winchester swallowed thickly and nodded.

"That was the best kiss I've ever had in my entire life." Castiel smiled, really and truly smiled, and a warm tingly feeling spread through Dean's chest.

"Really?" he grinned.

Castiel nodded. "I did want to get away from that asshat, but honestly…" Pink tinged his cheeks, and he swallowed thickly.

"My apartment is one block away," Dean said quickly, grabbing Castiel's hand and practically dragging him out of the frat house. He was smiling like an idiot as they walked.

Dean looked over at Castiel, who was grinning at him with something so purely happy in his eyes that it made Dean stop.

Castiel's smile dropped. "What's wrong?" He looked like he was starting to panic again, and Dean took both of his hands.

"Do you want to go eat somewhere first?" Dean asked. "I know Whataburger isn't the best place for a date, but…" Dean shrugged.

"Date?" Castiel's smile was back.

"Yeah," Dean pulled him in another direction. "I was your boyfriend for five minutes. Maybe that's not enough for me."

Castiel suppressed a little smile and _damn_ , he was adorable. "A two o'clock Whataburger date sounds like the perfect start."

They walked, and Dean's head swam. Making out with a beautiful guy, nighttime cheeseburgers, and maybe something more. Assholes like Bartholomew did have their purpose.

 **A/N:** Reviews are Dean and Cas sharing fries!


	10. The Fall

**A/N:** Prompt: "I'm at an art exhibit and I just badmouthed the art, because I don't get it, okay? And it turns out you're the artist. I'm so sorry, maybe I could get you coffee and you could explain what it was supposed to be?" (from meetcuteproject on tumblr)

Contains mentions of suicidal thoughts and more feels than originally intended. Also a teeny tiny "One Year Later" because I just had to.

 **The Fall**

Dean honestly didn't get it. Sam dragged him to the art exhibit because _"You need to do something cultured, Dean, multicultural porn doesn't count blah blah expanding your mind blah blah intellectuals blah blah."_

He stood in the Garrison Art Gallery, staring at a canvas with a red square painted on it. This was art, apparently.

Sam was talking animatedly to the curator, Sarah. He had beelined towards her the second they walked through the door. He couldn't bullshit Dean, Sam was there for the view, and not the views on the wall. At least this girl was cool. Sam didn't have the best track record.

Dean wandered through the adjoining rooms, munching on the free shrimp and sipping the wine he'd picked up at the entrance. He'd eat his free shrimp, look at some weird shit, then drag Sam out the door and tease him mercilessly about Sarah. He could do this.

"What do you think?" a voice said beside him.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, this guy was so quiet. And… hello, he was also hot. He didn't look as stuffy as some of the people here, which was a nice change. In those jeans, it was a _really_ nice change. Though they paled in comparison to his angelic face, all blue eyes and full lips and _okay_ little Dean, not the best moment to show up.

Dean forced his eyes back to the canvas, because the sexy dude had asked him about it. It was monochromatic, just a giant swath of blue getting darker and darker towards the bottom of the canvas, with a big swipe of gold at the very bottom. The colors were nice, but it was so simple. A kid could draw something like this with two crayons.

"Honestly?" Dean asked, and the blue-eyed man nodded. "I don't get it. I mean, I like blue and all, but it's just light on top and dark on bottom. Doesn't seem like there's much to it." Dean leaned in towards the little plaque next to the canvas. " _The Fall,_ by Castiel Novak. Like, what does that mean? Did Castiel just flip through a dictionary to find words? And seven hundred bucks." Dean shook his head. Maybe the wine was getting to him.

The blue-eyed man chuckled. "To the viewer, the art is something entirely alien, and to the artist, the meaning is obvious."

It would be like Dean to make a sassy quip about Confucius or something, but this man's stare made his mouth dry. He didn't look condescending, but he looked like he had a secret. It was mischievous, and Dean liked it.

"I'm Dean, by the way," Dean cleared his throat and held out his hand.

The man shook it. "Castiel," he said innocently, and Dean's blood ran cold.

"Fuck, man, I'm so sorry," he backed up. "I didn't mean to shit on your painting, I guess I'm just an idiot, seriously it's good, I swear I didn't—"

"Dean," Castiel said, interrupting his babbling. "It's okay. I paint for myself, and most people don't understand. It's how my style is." He gave Dean another one of those little smiles, and Dean wanted to slap himself.

 _God dammit, just say something_. "Look, I'm not super cultured or anything, but I'm tryin' to learn," Dean forced a grimace off his face. "Would you… would you just explain it to me? Maybe if I get it I can start liking some of this stuff."

Castiel turned and started walking and Dean hoped the floor would open up and swallow him right then and there, but he just sat on a nearby bench and patted the seat next to him.

Nerves flooded through Dean as he sat. Why had he asked about it? He wasn't going to understand anything that Castiel said. He didn't get art, he wasn't smart enough to.

"I painted this one about two years ago, actually," Castiel murmured. Dean bit his lip and resolved to just listen.

Castiel continued. "I was at a very low period in my life. My family was loving, but very religious. When I told them I was gay, they kicked me out, and I lived on the streets for a few years."

Dean tamped down the little flutter in his stomach at the mention of Castiel's proclivity for men. He was telling him his tragic backstory, for god's sake.

"I never believed that homosexuals went to hell. The merciful god I grew up with would never be so cruel to me. So I started out hopeful." He motioned to the top of the painting, the strip of white. "I sold everything I took with me for more art supplies. I'd won awards in school, surely I could sell a few paintings and get myself a tiny apartment, right? I should have remembered that most of the greats died poor and alone. I spiraled downwards," he motioned through the darkening shades of blue. "And two years ago, I decided that I'd had enough. I decided that anywhere was better than where I was, and even if god had turned his back on me, the afterlife would be heaven compared to my life on Earth.

"I painted this as a goodbye, that hopefully someone would understand that I'd be happier somewhere else." He pointed to the swath of gold at the very bottom.

Castiel was quiet for a moment, just looking up at his painting. He looked thoughtful, at peace, though Dean's chest physically hurt for this man.

"What happened then?" Dean asked quietly, voice wavering.

"I woke up in a hospital with my brother Gabriel standing over my bed, and my painting sitting in the corner. Gabe had apparently been looking for me as soon as he'd come back from college, and he took me in. I got some help and started to feel better. Gabe made me paint my feelings as often as possible, and it turned out to be an excellent therapy."

Castiel turned to face Dean, tucking one leg underneath him on the bench. "Other people have told me that it looks like an ocean, or clouds and sky. Sometimes they guess at what it might mean, and I never tell them because it'll never mean to them what it means to me."

He leaned forward and thumbed a tear off Dean's cheek. He wasn't aware that he'd shed any tears, and he hurried to wipe them away. "That's—" he cleared his throat. "That's beautiful, Cas."

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel smiled. If Dean looked closely, his eyes were kind of like the painting, light in the middle, deepening more and more towards the edges. Hell, there was probably gold in there too.

Dean had to clear his throat again. He was feeling some actual feelings that were making his face red and his palms sweaty. "Why are you selling it now?" he asked.

Castiel shrugged. "Painting is was a goodbye. Selling it will be too. Goodbye to my struggles, because I'm finally where I want to be."

Someone dropped a wine glass somewhere, and it nearly scared Dean out of his skin. He'd completely forgot that they were in a public place with other people. Castiel had a way of sucking Dean in, like nothing else existed. It was a heady feeling.

Dean got up abruptly. He was about to do something insanely stupid, but he couldn't stop himself if he wanted to. "Stay here," he ordered a startled looking Castiel.

Turning on his heel, he marched out of the room and to the place where he'd last seen Sam. Thankfully he was still there, still flirting with Sarah, but there was no time for that. Dean grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him a few feet away.

"Ow, Dean! Let go!" Sam shrugged his hand off. "What the hell?"

"I need a loan. Four hundred bucks."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What did you do?"

Dean rolled his. "I didn't _do_ anything. I need to buy this painting because I think I just met the love of my life. Seriously, help me Sammy."

Sam's jaw dropped open. "You—"

"You heard me, I'm not repeating this," Dean grabbed Sam's sleeve. " _Please_."

Sam stared at him for a long moment. Thankfully something seemed to convince him. "Fine," he huffed. "I'll transfer the money to you tomorrow morning."

"You're a lifesaver, Sammy." Dean crushed Sam in a quick hug, ignoring the tiny " _Ow_."

He didn't sprint back to Castiel. Nope, not a sprint.

When Dean crossed the threshold, Castiel stood up. "Dean?" he looked so confused. "What's wrong?"

"I want to buy your painting," Dean said as evenly as he could. He may have been a tiny bit out of breath.

Castiel blinked. "What?"

"I want that painting, and I will buy it off you right now." Dean could feel that his eyes were a little too wide, but Castiel stared right back and he honestly didn't care.

Castiel opened and closed his mouth like a fish. "Why?" he finally asked.

"That painting was your goodbye," Dean swallowed thickly. "Maybe it could be my hello." That felt _so damn corny_ to say, but the look in Castiel's eyes was worth it.

"It— I—" he stammered, than finally, "Okay." He turned to lead him somewhere—Dean obviously didn't know how buying art went—but immediately turned back around. "Let me buy you dinner. As a thank you."

Dean's stomach flipped, and he grinned. "I'd like that. Even if it's technically on my dime."

Castiel laughed, and yeah. Seven hundred dollars was worth it.

 **One Year Later**

Dean stood back and squinted at the painting until he was sure it hung straight. The exposed brick wall was a bitch to put hooks in, but Castiel loved that apartment too much for Dean to say no.

A pair of paint-stained hands wrapped around Dean's torso. "Why's it upside down?" Castiel kissed a spot behind his ear, and Dean glanced at the painting, gold stripe at the very top.

He'd been thinking about that even before they'd moved in together. Since he'd figured out that he liked hearing Castiel talk about art, he'd been thinking about what Castiel had said the day they'd met. _It'll never mean to them what it means to me_. Castiel had been right, it meant something completely different to Dean.

"'Cause I hung it how I see it," Dean leaned back into Castiel's embrace. "It's not goodbye to me. It's fighting to get what you want. The higher you get, the harder it gets, but when you reach the gold…" Dean turned in Castiel's arms. "When you find something, some _one_ you really love, it feels like flying."

Castiel gave him a watery smile. "Dean Johnathan Winchester, you're going to make me cry." He chuckled and kissed Castiel, the artist he'd now been dating for over a year, the man he had bought a ring for just two weeks ago.

He pulled back and they stood there for a moment, just existing in each other's arms.

"You know you're the gold, right?" Dean said into his hair.

Castiel chuckled. "You're damn right I am."

 **A/N:** Reviews are Dean and Castiel decorating their new apartment!


	11. A Risk You're Willing to Take

**A/N:** The one where Bela is sneaky and Dean oozes repression like the Blob. High School AU.

 **A Risk You're Willing to Take**

Dean was surprised when Bela approached him in the hallway. Sure, he was a football player and she was a cheerleader, but they were in entirely different circles. Bela was student council president and had already gotten into Harvard, even though it wasn't even October. She was queen of Lawrence High.

Dean was, well, Dean. His highest grade was in auto shop, his wardrobe was 70% flannel, and he spent his weekends binging classic Star Trek and playing Dungeons and Dragons. He was a dork. An athletic dork, but a dork nonetheless.

"Dean," Bela said in her musical accent. "Lovely to see you."

"You too," he smiled. Bela was gorgeous, all curves and curls and a sly smile, but Dean had never gone for her. She just wasn't his type, he guessed.

Bela closed his locker for him and began to walk, giving him no choice but to follow. "How would you feel about going on a double date with me?"

Dean blinked in surprise. Bela asking _him_ on a date? "Uh, sure," he grinned. That's what he should be doing, going on dates with nice girls. Bela was the full package. He should be pursuing her, right?

What could it hurt? Dean would go on one innocent date with her, and then he'd see if they hit it off or not. And if not, Dean could go back to his perfectly decent life.

"Friday at seven, the Roadhouse," she gave him a sly smile.

"Yes ma'am," Dean nodded, and she immediately left to rejoin her friends.

"What was she doing over here?" Benny's voice floated from behind him. "She take a wrong turn?"

Dean rolled his eves. He'd had a crush on Benny back in eighth grade, back before he knew better, before John taught him better. But when they'd joined the football team together in ninth grade and Benny had proved that he could rival Dean in his dorkiness, they grew into best friends in a matter of days.

"For your information, she was asking me out on a date," he lifted his chin and brushed past Benny with his nose in the air.

Benny laughed. "No really, what was she saying?"

"I'm serious!" Dean punched Benny lightly on the shoulder. "We're going out on Friday with another couple."

He gave a low whistle. "I did not see that coming, brother."

"Me either," Dean shrugged.

o o o

He had absolutely no idea what was going to happen as he climbed into Bela's Mercedes. She was dressed tastefully, as per usual, and he put on his cleanest pair of jeans. She said the restaurant wasn't fancy, so he kept his usual t-shirt and flannel combo. It hadn't failed him yet.

"You like hamburgers, yes?" Bela asked as they parked in the little lot.

"Oh yeah." If this place had a good burger, he could get through anything.

Dean held the door for her like a gentleman, and she strode inside like she owned the place. She beelined for a booth in the corner with two people in it, presumably the other couple.

The girl Dean could see was cute, with red hair and a sweet face, and the boy across from her was—

He turned his head and Dean was smacked in the face with _blue_. He had these wide blue eyes that stood out even in the dim light. They crinkled on the side when he smiled at Bela, then fell when he met Dean's eyes.

They approached the booth, and Dean completely missed Bela's devious smile. "Charlie, Castiel, this is Dean Winchester." She slid into the booth next to Charlie, and Dean took his cue next to Castiel, whose big blue eyes were wide with… terror?

Dean opened his mouth to actually introduce himself when Bela pulled Charlie's face towards her own and kissed her right on the mouth. The words died in Dean's throat.

Charlie giggled and Bela raised an eyebrow at him. "Charlie and I have been together for almost a year now," she said innocently. "Castiel is Charlie's brother."

"God dammit, Bela," Castiel swore quietly beside him, hands over his bright red face.

It all clicked together. "You asked me on a date for him, not you," Dean said slowly. Bela blinked innocently, and Dean forced himself not to look at Castiel because _damn_ he was adorable when he was flustered. "You know I'm not gay, right?"

Bela choked out a laugh and Charlie sighed. "Again, Bel? Remember what I said about bringing straight guys?"

"You knew she was bringing someone?" Castiel's voice cracked. Charlie looked apologetic.

"Guys?" Dean was feeling more and more alone. "Tell me what's going on."

Castiel had closed his eyes and steepled his fingers over his mouth, like he was praying for the strength not to set the table on fire. Charlie looked exasperated, and Bela rolled her eyes.

"I've been trying to find our Cassie a boyfriend for some time now," Bela began. "He and Charlie go to the Academy, so there aren't many candidates there. He wouldn't come if he knew we were setting him up on a blind date, so we told him he'd be hanging out with us tonight."

" _I_ told him, I'm sorry Cassie," Charlie leaned towards her brother. "I just want you to be happy."

"Hold up, why did you trick _me_ into coming?" Dean's blood was starting to boil. "You know I'm not—"

"Please, Dean," Bela cut him off. "You ooze repression like the Blob."

"That's not true," Dean could feel cold sweat beading on his forehead. No one knew what he felt, or rather, used to feel. It had been a phase, even though looking at Castiel made his chest kind of tingly. "I dated Lisa Braeden for half of sophomore year, for gods sake."

"Yeah, she told me plenty about that," Bela raised an eyebrow.

"I should go," Castiel muttered and stood, and Dean's anger dissolved. He looked so dejected, it made Dean's heart hurt.

"No," Dean reached out and caught his sleeve, "stay."

Castiel looked incredulously at Dean's fingers in the fabric of his sweater, then into his eyes. Damn, those were blue.

"I mean," Dean let the sleeve go and rubbed the back of his neck, "we could still all hang out, just not as a double date. As friends. That works, right?" He glanced at the girls, who were exasperated. Castiel was giving him this suspicious look, like he was unsure whether to sit or run away. "Please, Cas?"

Castiel blinked a few times, then sat with a huff. There was silence around the table. Charlie and Bela shared a look that Dean couldn't read, and Castiel was staring a hole in the table. It was the most awkward Dean had felt in years.

"Well," he clapped his hands together. "Do we wait for a server here or go up to the counter? I could use a cheeseburger right now."

"I'll go order for us," Bela stood and looked at Dean. "I'm assuming you want a double bacon cheeseburger with fries?"

Dean's cheeks heated a little. "Damn, I guess there's a reason you're going to Harvard."

Bela smiled and tugged Charlie up with her. They left so quickly that neither Dean nor Castiel had time to object.

When Dean turned his head, Castiel was right there, peeking at him through dark lashes. They were close, too close.

Dean scooted back so he could turn towards the blue-eyed boy. He looked so nervous, and Dean got a weirdly protective urge. _Make Cas smile_.

"So, did Charlie get the recessive genes?" he asked.

Castiel squinted. "Huh?"

Dean couldn't help a chuckle. "The red hair. Yours is definitely darker."

"Oh," Castiel blushed, and Dean didn't know if he'd ever thought pink was cute on anything before that. "She's actually not my blood relative. Her family adopted me."

Dean nodded, torn between asking about it and not wanting to pry. "Family don't end in blood," he said.

Castiel gave him a little smile. "I believe that to be true. And I'm glad it is."

"Is there…" Dean bit his lip. "Is there a story behind that? Sorry, I don't mean to be nosy."

"It's okay," Castiel replied immediately, looking over to Charlie. "My mom died when I was an infant, and my dad was fairly absent. They were next door neighbors, so I basically lived with them already. One day when I was five, my father left and never came back. Luckily, CPS allowed the Bradburys to adopt me."

Dean didn't realize his mouth was open until he made himself shut it. "Wow, Cas, I'm so sorry." Slowly, as if it would scare him away, Dean put a hand on his shoulder.

Castiel's eyes went wide, but he didn't move away. "Don't be. I got a good family out of it."

They smiled at each other, and it made Dean feel very warm. Fuck, maybe he was entering another phase. No, no, he was fine. It was just real human connection. That was nice, right?

"They'll be out soon!" Bela and Charlie dropped back into the seats across from Dean and Castiel. Dean snatched his hand back from Castiel's shoulder and immediately felt his chest tightening. He risked a glance at the blue-eyed man, whose face was impassive.

The girls chatted a bit, bickering with Dean about the state of the football team and the fact that it wasn't his fault that both string's quarterbacks have gotten injured.

"They put Alfie in. _Alfie._ The guy's cool and all, but how the hell are we going to beat the East Side Demons now?" Dean shook his head. "It's like freakin' tilting at windmills."

Castiel, who'd only been listening out of politeness, whipped his head around. "You've read _Don Quixote_?" he asked. Heat crept up Dean's cheeks.

"We read that sophomore year in AP Spanish Literature," Bela munched on the fries that were set in front of them. "I didn't know you took the class, Dean."

"I, uh, didn't." He swallowed thickly. "My kid brother Sam likes books a lot, so sometimes I read 'em too so he has someone to talk about them with." What he didn't say was that he sometimes really enjoyed the books, and Sam didn't talk with him nearly enough to justify reading every one.

Bela nodded and Charlie made a sound of agreement, but he didn't really notice them. Castiel was looking at him with this little surprised smile that made him flush all the way down to his toes.

The conversation went on, and the second Dean found an opening, he took it.

"Ugh, I hate taking Bio and Chem at the same time," Charlie complained. "I know the Academy is hard, but how are you supposed to get A's on everything?"

"Adultery in a seventeenth century Puritan town works," Dean mumbled, and Castiel burst out laughing. It was such a happy sound that Dean couldn't help his face from splitting in a grin.

Bela and Charlie gave him a confused look, evidently having not heard the joke. Dean quickly changed the subject, but glanced over at Castiel every so often. He still had a little smile on his face.

They continued on, and Dean stopped looking for references. Any more and Castiel would think he was showing off. He didn't want to give him the wrong impression, he wasn't conceited or anything. Of course, he did want to impress him. Castiel was obviously super smart and Dean was obviously inferior in that respect, but damn did he want Castiel to look at him like that again, mid-laugh, crinkles around his eyes and a gummy smile.

It turned out that Castiel handed him the next one.

"Heaven is never having to wake up before ten," Charlie grumbled.

"No, heaven is having a bed so comfortable that you'd always wake up happy, unlike yours." Bela bumped Charlie's shoulder and she smiled.

"That is, if you get there." Castiel turned to Dean. "Is your heart lighter than a feather?"

Dean grinned. "Nah, Ammit would swallow me whole."

Bela rolled her eyes and Charlie's brows scrunched together. "What reference is that?"

"Egyptian lore," Dean shifted in his seat. "Before you can go to the afterlife, Ma'at weights your heart against a feather."

"And if it's too heavy with wrongdoings, the demon Ammit eats you," Castiel finished.

Bela held up a hand to Charlie, who huffed and fished a ten dollar bill out of her purse. "Premature," she grumbled.

Castiel leveled a glare at Bela, who stuck her tongue out. Dean decided not to ask.

"So you enjoy literature," Castiel said, more to him than the table. "What else do you do?"

Dean put his burger down and wiped his hands. "This and that. I work with cars sometimes."

Castiel's eyes darted to Dean's hands and back to his face, so fast that Dean might have imagined it. "What do you do with the cars?"

Dean chuckled. "I fix 'em up with my dad. Once I get the one that—" _The one that John wrecked._ He cleared his throat. "There's one I'm working on now that's going to be amazing. She's a '67 Impala and man, she is sweet."

"You sound like you're good at it," Castiel twirled a fry in his fingers.

"Very." Dean felt heat creep up his neck. He didn't add innuendo to that. Not at all. He cleared his throat again. "I'll show you when she's done."

Castiel's eyebrows rose in a silent question, but Dean stayed quiet for a long moment. "So what do you do?" he asked.

The blue-eyed boy fiddled with a button on his shirt sleeve. "I, uh, play oboe. And I run track."

Dean grinned. "A man of many talents, huh?" Castiel flushed pink, and it might have been the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. "What do you like about oboe?"

Honestly, Dean thought he'd be bored out of his mind listening to anyone talk about classical music, but it was fascinating to watch Castiel talk. He really loved oboe, because he lit up when he talked about it. Dean watched his hands fly as he spoke, illustrating the motions when playing and the movements of a conductor. Dean didn't even make a joke about that name when Castiel said his favorite piece to play was a sonata by by Srul Irving Glick.

"I'm so sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?" Castiel clutched his hands tightly in his lap, blinking owlishly at Dean.

"Nah. I mean yeah, but it's okay." Dean grinned as Castiel facepalmed.

"Boys," Bela spoke up. "Since the food is paid for and Charlie and I are finished, I'm taking her home." She looked at Castiel. "Stay out late, if you know what I mean."

"Cassie, you take the car." Castiel pinched his brow, and Charlie laughed. "We'll stay off your bed."

"Charlie!" Castiel huffed, and she blew him a kiss.

"See you on Monday, Dean!" Bela called, dragging Charlie out with her.

Dean shook his head in fond exasperation and looked over at Castiel. He had on a mild bitchface, but there was a little smile in there. "And then there were two," Dean leaned back. He should really move to the other side of the booth, it was weird to sit so close to Castiel when there was all that space.

Castiel was gripping the brown linoleum of the seat, as if he was restraining himself from going to the other side. Or was he trying to move but failing? Either way, neither boy got up.

The jukebox switched songs, and "Travelin' Riverside Blues" came on.

"Man, I love this song!" Dean smiled.

Castiel shrugged. "I prefer Kashmir."

Dean perked up. "You know Zeppelin?"

"Charlie is a connoisseur of many music genres."

After that, conversation fell into place. For the first time, Dean abandoned his fries to talk and laugh. When Castiel was relaxed, he told ridiculous jokes that made no sense, but were funny anyway. He asked about Sam, and rested his chin on his hand while Dean talked. He listened, really listened, and Dean couldn't help but listen back.

"You boys need anything else?" a woman with sweet eyes asked them, snapping Dean out of his trance.

"Uh, no, we're good. Thanks."

The woman glanced towards the door, where they were flipping the sign to _Closed_. "Just let us know, we're closing up soon."

"We're actually going now, sorry to take so long," Castiel gave her an apologetic smile and dragged Dean out of the booth.

"I can't believe it's already eleven," Dean pocketed his phone and shook his head. "Time flies, huh?"

"Agreed." Castiel led him to his Prius, and Dean was proud that he didn't make a snarky comment about it.

The car ride was quiet, but in a comfortable sort of way. He realized halfway to his house that he was sneaking glances at Castiel and made himself stop. It didn't help that Castiel looked at him every so often too.

The Prius pulled up to Dean's house, but Dean didn't make any move to get out. The night seemed like it flew by in minutes. Castiel really was a great guy. He was dangerous, though, and Dean was torn between wanting him in every minute of his life and never speaking to him again, just so there was no risk of… that. John wouldn't have anything to be suspicious of.

But when Castiel threw the car in park and smiled over at him, Dean felt a violent flipping in his stomach at the thought of never seeing him again.

"Even with that little mix up at the beginning, I had a really fun time," Dean smiled. Maybe it could be like Benny. He knew he needed Castiel in his life. Maybe something could work out. "Let me give you my number so we can hang out some time."

Dean pulled his phone out, but Castiel didn't move. He bit his lip, which was really fuckin' cute but also worrying. "Dean," he said in a warning tone, and the Winchester felt a wash of fear run over him. Castiel probably didn't like him at all. Why would he want to be friends with Dean?

"Yeah?" Dean answered, voice hoarse.

Castiel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Bela was right when she said you oozed repression like the blob, but if you really are straight and just want to be friends I don't think I can do that because I _really_ like you, like a lot more than I thought I could, and I don't want to get hurt again, so just…" He trailed off and opened his eyes.

Dean sat there with his mouth open. Castiel _liked_ him? He was acutely aware of his body and how warm he was and the butterflies zipping around his stomach. Castiel _liked_ him. He wanted something more than friends.

Fuck, Dean was gay.

"Please say something," he looked at Dean desperately.

"I…" Dean tried to find the words, head reeling with his reluctant acknowledgement of his next phase. Or the new permanent state of his sexuality. He didn't know, but honestly? He wanted Castiel, despite what consequences that might have.

"No one knows," he settled on. "I went through a phase when I was younger, but I thought I grew out of that." He chuckled. "Guess not."

"So you're saying…?"

Dean swallowed thickly. "I like you. More than friends."

Castiel sighed in relief and took out his phone. "Then yes, let's hang out sometime. Maybe tomorrow? And we can call it a date?" He looked at Dean with that little hopeful smile and damn, Dean was gone.

They exchanged numbers, Dean's heart thumping with excitement. Castiel liked him, and they were going on a date.

"I'll pick you up from the Academy tomorrow." Dean grinned.

"I'll be waiting." Castiel gave him another smile. He unchecked his seatbelt and made for the door when Castiel grabbed his arm. "Wait."

Dean sat back down. "Yeah?"

Castiel hesitated a second, then cupped Dean's face in his hand and pulled him in, slotting their lips together hesitantly. After a stunned second, Dean grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in further. His lips were so soft, and a part of Dean registered that this was his first kiss with a guy and it was already better than any he'd had with a girl.

It lasted a few seconds, maybe, but when they parted, Dean was already breathing hard. In the dim light of the street lamps, he could see Castiel's pink cheeks and wide eyes. "Wow," he murmured.

"Um," Castiel cleared his throat. "I will see you tomorrow, Dean."

"Absolutely," Dean let himself out of the car and gave Castiel a dazed smile. "Night, Cas."

"Good night, Dean."

Then he was driving off and Dean was standing in his driveway, fingers to his lips. He felt lighter than air. He couldn't tell anyone, not yet. It would surely get back to John somehow. There would be consequences if he found out. But that feeling he had—Castiel _liked_ him. They were going on a _date_.

It was a risk he was willing to take.

 **A/N:** Reviews are love!


	12. Butterfly

**A/N:** Prompt from the tumblr of severus-snape-is-a-butt-trumpet: "You walked in on me practicing for datda in an empty classroom, and have now inadvertently discovered that my boggart takes the form of a butterfly, please stop laughing"

 **Butterfly**

"Riddik… Rid… Ri… Oh fuck."

Dean stopped as the scrape of desks and soft swearing filtered out from the closed door of the corridor. It was Professor Singer's room, but his class had been out for at least an hour. No one should be in there.

Judging by the sounds he heard, it looked like someone was trying to practice degrading a boggart. Dean was about to keep walking, it was none of his business, but he heard a thump and a whisper-yelled, "Get away!"

He sighed and opened the door. Dean didn't know what he expected, probably some kid terrorized by ghosts, but he was definitely not expecting a teenage Ravenclaw on his ass, backing away from a pink butterfly.

"Dude," Dean deadpanned before he could help himself.

"Shut up!" the boy gritted his teeth and raised his wand. "Riddic—aah!" He crawled away before the butterfly could land on his nose.

With a chuckle, Dean made his way through the desks and put himself in the boggart's line of sight. It changed immediately, cycling violently through Dean's fears in staticky waves, but Dean didn't give it the chance to form.

"Riddiculus," Dean said confidently, like he had a million times before, and the swirling mass changed. There appeared a thirteen-year-old Sammy, shaving cream all over his face and hand.

"Seriously, Dean?" Boggart-Sam said exasperatedly, and Dean couldn't help but laugh.

"It's always funny, kid." Dean wordlessly pushed the boggart back into the wardrobe in the corner of the room, and with a flick of his wand, the lock clicked.

The Ravenclaw stood and brushed himself off, scowling first at the floor, then at Dean. The Winchester opened his mouth to make a sassy comment, but the blue-eyed boy held up a hand.

"Don't say it," he warned.

"How can I not?" Dean grinned. "Your biggest fear is—"

"Is a fucking butterfly, I'm aware." The blue-eyed boy snatched up his black robes and stomped towards the door.

"Hey, wait, I'm sorry," Dean caught his arm and the boy's head whipped around. Those blue eyes were… real fucking blue. Even if the eyebrows above were pinched in annoyance. "Let me help you. With the spell."

"I don't need help," he jerked his arm away.

"Right, Ravenclaws don't ask for help," Dean raised an eyebrow, and the boy raised one back.

"Says the mighty Gryffindor with no fears," the Ravenclaw put his hands on his hips.

Dean felt his teasing mood drop. "Too many fears, actually." They were quiet for a long moment, just staring at each other. Without the sneer on his face, Dean could see the cupid's bow of the boy's slightly chapped lips. They looked nice. Dean cleared his throat and held out his hand. "I'm Dean."

"I know," the boy said, but there was no annoyance in his voice. "Gryffindor's star Keeper three years in a row. I'm Castiel." He took Dean's hand. It was cold, and Dean held it maybe a little longer than necessary.

"Castiel," he said. It was a mouthful. "I haven't heard of you. Not in like a rude way or anything, I just haven't—"

"I get it," Castiel gave him a little smile. "I fly under the radar on purpose."

There was another moment of silence, this one much less tense, but not as warm as Dean wanted it to be. This guy— _Castiel_ —was intriguing.

"I should go," the blue-eyed boy said.

"Wait!" Dean said, maybe too loudly. "Did you, uh, want any help with the spell?"

Castiel looked like he was silently arguing with himself, but relented.

"Fine." He dropped his robes and stepped back into the center of the room. "Share your secrets."

Dean grinned. "It's not really secret. It's hard for people to separate the feeling of fear from what you see in front of you. If you can hold in your mind that it's just a boggart and not really what you're seeing, it gets easier." He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater and stretched his arms up. "Also getting out the full word helps."

Castiel's eyes narrowed, but his lips curved up just a little bit. "Asshole."

Dean's grin widened. Jeez, he wouldn't even need the image of pranking Sammy to degrade the boggart with Castiel around. And wow, that was an intense thought for a guy that he met only minutes ago.

"Seriously," Dean picked up his wand and stood next to Castiel. "Hold your wand up high, you'll drop your hand naturally when you see something you're scared of." Dean held his wand up and Castiel nodded, holding his own high.

"Try to say 'riddikulus' real loud. You just wanna get the whole word out, even if it's not strong, something will happen." Castiel nodded and tensed up as Dean went to the wardrobe. "Remember—wand high, say it loud. It's a boggart, not a butterfly."

The Ravenclaw rolled his eyes. He eventually took a breath and nodded at Dean, who opened the wardrobe.

The little pink butterfly fluttered out, and Castiel took a step back. "It's not a butterfly, Cas, you can do this."

Castiel's eyes turned on Dean for a long second, then refocused. "R-Riddik…" He took another step back as the butterfly floated closer.

"Just get the word out," Dean came a little closer. "Hold your wand high."

"R-Riddikulus," he squeaked, and one of the butterfly's wings bent, sending it slowly to the floor.

"Loud and proud!" Dean ordered, and Castiel squared his shoulders.

"Riddikulus!" he said with conviction. The butterfly sprouted ears and a tail and after a second, a squished-face cat hopped onto the floor.

"Mrow." It rolled onto its back and began to purr.

Castiel chuckled, little lines crinkling around his eyes. "This was the goofiest little thing I had as a kid." He rubbed the cat's belly. "He tripped over his own feet and always tried to eat socks."

"He's adorable."

Castiel picked up the boggart-cat and deposited him in the wardrobe, which Dean quickly closed and locked.

"That was awesome, dude," Dean clapped Castiel on the back, and he smiled tiredly.

"Only took years," Castiel snorted and collapsed into a desk chair. "This was the first time it's worked."

Dean's eyes widened as he pulled up a chair. "The first? How did you practice?"

"With my brother Gabe, but he's at his Weasley's internship today. I don't know why I thought I could do it alone today."

"Good thing you didn't have to." Dean puffed out his chest. "You got me now."

Castiel chuckled. "My hero."

"Do you maybe want to talk about it?" Dean asked.

Castiel traced a groove of his wand. "I'm scared of butterflies, what is there to talk about?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. He may have only known the guy for twenty minutes, but he didn't seem like the type to be afraid of much of anything. "We both know there's more to it. I won't pry if you don't want me to, but…" He let the sentence hang.

Castiel turned those blue eyes on him and sighed. "When I was eight years old, I was riding my bike with my little brother perched on behind me. Mother always said it was unsafe, but Samandriel loved it. We were out riding, and a butterfly landed on my face. I didn't really like them in the first place, at least up close with their antennae and legs and stuff." His face darkened. "It startled me, and I accidentally swerved into the road. We were hit by a truck."

"Shit, Cas, I'm so sorry," Dean murmured.

"He's not dead," Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's worse. He's been brain-dead in St. Mungo's for years now. My parents won't pull him off life support because they don't want their son to be a murderer."

Dean had no idea what to say to that. Of course the butterfly would manifest as the fear—a defense mechanism so the fear wouldn't manifest as himself. Dean reached out and slid his fingers over Castiel's. The boy tensed for a second, then bent his fingers around Dean's.

"I always skip Defense Against the Dark Arts on the boggart days. My brother has to try to teach me. It's stupid, it should be easy."

"It's not easy," Dean said quickly.

"Dean, you didn't even flinch. What was that anyway?"

Fuck, now Dean had to tell him. It would be really shitty to make him spill that scarring story and then keep his own shit to himself. He looked over at Castiel, the brand-new sassy attractive Ravenclaw with his own demons. He barely knew him. What did he have to lose?

Dean stood up. "Open it."

"Really?"

"Go on, you want to know," Dean watched Castiel as he moved to the wardrobe, the apprehensive look obvious in those blue eyes. He squared his shoulders and nodded at Castiel, who looked like he wanted to say something.

The wardrobe opened. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then slowly, another Dean pushed the creaky door open and stepped out.

So, it was himself this time. Sometimes it was John, with a wrench or a belt, sometimes it was Sammy screaming about how much he hated Dean. Sometimes it was Jo's lifeless body in his arms. And sometimes, oftentimes, it was Dean.

Dean didn't raise his wand, though a cold feeling washed over him. He stayed still, letting Castiel see.

"You look awful as ever," boggart-Dean said, voice gruff. He always appeared a little older, a little thinner, gaunt. No light left in his eyes.

Boggart-Dean walked over to him, stopping a few feet away. Boggarts couldn't kill you, they could only do half of what the real thing could. His duplicate had only ever hurt him twice, both times a hard slap to the face.

"Has Sammy left you yet?" boggart-Dean asked, then gave a humorless chuckle. "It's maybe a few years away. He forces an unbreakable vow on you, never to see you again. The hate in his eyes…" It shook its head.

Dean stayed still and silent.

"Failed out of Ilvermorny," Boggart-Dean said. "You'll fail out of Hogwarts. Can't even get a job as a janitor in Diagon Alley. And the accident, right after Sammy leaves." It took a step forwards. "Leaves that shake in your hands that you just can't… shake. You'll never repair a broom again."

"That's enough," Castiel said, voice wavering.

"Not yet," Dean murmured.

"Not yet," boggart-Dean mocked in a high-pitched voice. "Acting brave for the boy, hah, don't bother. You think he'd ever like you? You worthless, stupid, low-life piece of—"

"Riddikulus," Dean said, voice steady.

There was a loud cracking as boggart-Dean shifted, morphing into one of Dean's favorite World of Wrestling characters. Dressed in cheap roman armor, he lifted a clearly plastic sword. "Friends! Romans! Wrrrrrestling fans! Lend me your—"

"Wingardium leviosa," Dean flicked his wand, and the boggart-wrestler lifted into the air.

"Whoa! Feel my wrath, fiend!" it said as it floated into the open wardrobe, which shut with a click.

Castiel was quiet as Dean tucked his wand into the waistband of his pants. After a long stretch of silence, Castiel approached him.

"Dean—"

"It's okay," Dean gave him a little smile. "My fears are kind of intense. I learned at a young age how to make them go away. Dad had a boggart in the house, and he used it to…" he paused. "We were taught pretty early. Show no fear."

"That's… kind of fucked up," Castiel shook his head. "But I get why you're a Gryffindor. Definitely brave." He smiled. "And stubborn."

Dean grinned, feeling much better. "Well, that was pretty tiring. You want to ditch next period and get some chocolate at Honeydukes? Chocolate is good after boggarts."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that for dementors?"

Dean shrugged. "It's chocolate. Good after anything. Teddy showed me that secret passage in the mermaid fountain. Whaddaya say?"

"Why not?" Castiel grabbed his robes. "I already finished the next six transfiguration essays, the class is easy."

Dean gave an exasperated chuckle and lead him into the corridor.

"Oh, and Dean?" The Gryffindor turned back. "The boggart was wrong. About that last part."

Dean blinked, remembering the words. "Oh." He cleared his throat. "Good." Warmth spread across his cheeks, and Castiel grinned.

"Let's go. We have chocolate to eat."

 **A/N:** Reviews are Dean and Cas flirting in Honeydukes!


End file.
